Bite Me!

 

 

 I think it’s time make some sense of the current fascination or obsession with Zombies and Vampires.  Zombies, especially, have leaked from the world of fantasy to the real world, with staged Zombie attacks and even official advisories on what to do when the Zombie apocalypse begins.

These concepts and characters have always been with us, but currently it seems totally out of proportion to other fictional events.  There are TV shows, movies, and many books on both subjects.  To me, most are poor examples of art, but rather the usual attempt to cash in on what’s current.  I have tried to read a vampire book and watched an episode of “The Walking Dead”; won’t be repeating either. 

Granted, I’m older than most of the fans, but there must be some other reasons why I just don’t get it.  Obviously, both involve the concept of death—or undeath.  From my Sociological research in death and dying, I learned that among cultural taboos (e.g., sex and religion), the subject of death was the hardest to deal with in current times.  In the past, death was something to be dealt with on a daily basis.  The human lifespan was much shorter and infant deaths were common.  With the progress in medicine, many people grow to adulthood without experiencing death at close range.  In addition, many deaths occur in hospitals, further insulating us from the direct experience. 

Fictional death has always provided the gory, in your face kind of dying experience.  Medical death on TV and movies is made prettier than a mortician could ever hope for.  We see a pale, but otherwise good looking patient in a clean hospital bed, neatly covered and lying on plump pillows.  The loved ones have meaningful last conversations and vows of love, then the machines start beeping and fade to black.  This is invariably followed by a rainy funeral scene at the grave site with everyone garbed in stylish black. 

The difference with Zombies and Vampires is a lot of blood and guts.  There has been a new effort in the Vampire stories to make these characters more human and “just like us”.  So is this our current cultural maneuver to break the taboo, and help us understand death?  Or, maybe just another way of distancing ourselves from a concept that is just too hard to accept in reality?

Fiction is a very acceptable way of escaping from reality.  My theory—and I’m just guessing of course—is that the more dismal the world around us seems, the more we will seek escape.  We hear of mass shootings, wars, economic collapse, health crises, and terrorists in the closet on a daily basis.   The further our fiction is from our real lives, the more we can distance ourselves from the hard to accept facts.  I’m pretty sure no one really believes the Zombie apocalypse is coming soon, or that your strange neighbors who stay up all night are really vampires.  Or is that just me? 

My Name is Barbara and I'm a FaceBookaholic

 

I understand, really, why people avoid Facebook.  It is addictive, and it does produce emotions that might otherwise be untapped.  Once I fully understood that you could select what you view, I eliminated a lot that displeased me.  So what I have now is pages and pages of animals and politics, all things near and dear to my heart.  However, this also takes an emotional toll.  A co-worker is constantly threatening to unfriend me because of all the sad and needy animals that I share.  I do this to expand the network of animal rescue groups; this has proven to be a successful technique in decreasing euthanasia and increasing fund-raising. 

I like reading news and political views as well, and with Facebook I learn more that bolsters my own viewpoint.  When I encounter misinformation I always want to correct the poster, but I realize that is not possible in most cases.  Also, when I do so, there go the emotions again.

I just read a Washington Post story in which an “average” man was interviewed about his perception of our President.  Every statement was proof that the “average” man is completely uneducated on most of the things they rant about.  This man spouted that the government was full of members of the “Muslim Brotherhood” and held prayer meetings on the White House lawn.  He also noted that the President was totally un-American and violated the constitution repeatedly.  It frightens me how wide-spread these beliefs are.

In response to  another post, I researched statistics (World Health Organization) on life expectancy and infant mortality in the USA versus other “civilized” countries.  Did that impact the poster who believes we have the best health care in the world?  Of course not.  I vow to myself to not fall into these argumentative traps—but as I said, emotions rule.

The difference in reading things on FB as opposed to news stories is that it leads to the illusion that you can communicate with others.  Rather than face to face communication, which sometimes results in voices being raised and things being said that you don’t really mean, you have the opportunity to compose rational thoughts and even find data to justify your opinions.  The fallacy is that facts will impress someone who is already convinced and uses Fox news as their primary source of information.

In sum, I will continue to post animal pictures and stories.  Right now, a large rescue group, Miracle Ranch, housed in Ludowici, Georgia, is being threatened by the powers that be in Long County to be shut down; gunshots are being fired on their property.  That is a story worthy of sharing, and acting on.  I will continue to avoid long winded conversations by people who have axes to grind.  I will delete/hide posts by liars and haters, and only respond when I have something meaningful or positive to say.

Ignore Facebook, you say?  Sure, that’s an option.  Maybe I could wean myself off gradually— I don’t think my system could stand the shock of going cold turkey.  I won’t miss knowing where everyone is all the time, or what everyone is eating.  I also won’t miss those who allude to arguments they are having with unnamed people.  I will miss the childhood pictures, the happy ending stories and of course, above all, George Takei’s wit and wisdom.

Saving the World in 434 Words

Saving the world is really a hard job.  Just look at the animal part of it—all of these need rescuing:

Dogs, cats, rabbits, ducks, polar bears, whales, otters, ferrets, and wolves.  I know there are thousands or more of near-extinct species that I never even heard of.  This, of course, is directly connected to saving their habitats. 

It’s quite obvious that there’s a lot of saving needed in the human part of the world.  People in third world countries die of curable diseases, malnutrition, and endless warfare.  With all that, we don’t have the time to think of possible dangers waiting for us in the rest of the universe, except in science fictions books and movies. 

So why are you just sitting around?  I mean, really!  I’m no Mother Teresa, and can’t even imagine the sacrifices of those who are out there on all the battlegrounds, rescuing people and animals on a daily basis.  It exhausts me to manage my job, my house, and a mere 5 rescued dogs.  It seems frivolous to go on vacations, watch TV and movies, play games and shop for clothes.  When it really gets to me, it seems like everyone is out there skipping rope and chanting rhymes, oblivious to the suffering in the world. 

Okay, okay—I’ll lighten up.  I know most good people do what they can.  As individuals, we are not empowered to stop people from being cruel and greedy.  Most of you donate to charities, adopt animals, and are kind to your neighbors and small children.  Can we do more?  Of course, always.  Will we?  Probably not.  It’s our nature to want to feel good as much as possible.  We work, raise our children, honor our parents and deserve some time to just do nothing that contributes to society (except for the money spent on leisure pursuits). 

But Mother Teresa aside, what is the least we should expect from ourselves to contribute to the world-saving pot?  I’ve heard more than one religious official (Rabbi, Minister) say that what you do will never be as important as following the scriptures; sorry, I can’t buy that at all.  So here’s my take on this:

1)      Educate yourself – that is, really educate yourself, find out the facts--and vote for the person who’s going to contribute to the pot in your name. (Hint:  It’s not a current Republican congressperson).

2)      Find at least one charitable endeavor that speaks for those who need saving—don’t just write a check, find out what you can DO.

3)      Don’t turn away from lies, ugliness, hate, abuse and pain.  Speak out and help out. 

That is all.

Dogs of Calcutta

   

                                                                 I believe the dogs of Kolkata/Calcutta are descendants of a single pair.  How else to explain that they all look alike with slight variations. They are all lean and hungry and strangely inert.  They park in doorways so you must step over them, and still they don’t move.  People neither coddle them nor kick them; usually food and water is left out for them.  But still, they’re hungry.  Christians believe all human beings are descendants of a single pair.   Many of us are hungry, some live in the streets and are ignored.  We don’t all look alike—but we are more the same than different.

Kolkata is hot and dirty yet strangely peaceful.  The residents have accommodated themselves and their lives to the air around them.  They are polite and respectful, although somewhat wary of foreigners who are quite obvious as there are so few.  This city is not a tourist mecca.  In contrast, there are flowers and incense everywhere and many statues of the gods. 

My daily walk from the Star D’Lite Guest House was to the “Internet Café” a couple of blocks away.  The only thing on the “Café’s” menu was a room with about 8 ancient computers and small, squat old monitors.  In the US this would have been called trash; but I give whoever set this up a lot of credit for piecing together spare parts that actually—eventually—connected to the World Wide Web.  Cooling consisted of a lethargic ceiling fan (standard equipment in this area—except for the daily power outage). 

The Black Hole of Calcutta.  The term is familiar but like many, I never really knew what it was.  I think it represented the whole city to me—probably with good reason.  What it actually was:  a dungeon that housed British soldiers in 1756 during a conflict with the Nawab of Bengal.  Due to the suffocating conditions and lack of water, a majority of the captives died, although the number remains in dispute to this day.  I digress.  Kolkata/Calcutta is not a “black hole” but it has been a sadly neglected piece of the planet, with dogs not the only beings sleeping in the streets. 

This was not always so; Kolkata (formerly Calcutta) has a noble and rich history and has been a religiously and ethnically diverse center of culture in Bengal and India.  It served as the capital of India from 1772 until 1911.  Remnants of the British Raj regime are still evident, even though Indian independence was established in 1947.  The Victoria Memorial Museum is a treasure of beautiful works of arts and information on the history of India and Kolkata.  My son-in-law is a descendant of some of the early landowners who sold out to the East India Company and the British, eventually leading to the state of the city which even now continues to work on revitalization after many years of upheaval.  Kolkata is a tapestry of many threads of cultures and religions.  Church work and missions are ongoing; Mother Teresa continues to be remembered and honored.

You can’t help but notice where you are when you step off the plane.  The airport is just the beginning of what the city is like.  Leaving the airport the heat slaps your face like a wet towel and there are boys and men everywhere grabbing your luggage and begging for coins.  Taxis are bountiful, well used-Ambassadors, some adorned with Hindu gods, flowers and incense.  The roads might as well be made of loose rocks.  I feel safer riding in a bumper car than on the streets of Calcutta.  There are lights and signs, but on the roads it’s a free for all.  The poverty of the streets contrasts sharply with the grand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                            

 British buildings that still stand, like the Bengal Club with its elegant furnishings and old world charm.  A plaque on the wall lists the past Presidents with the names changing from British to Indian in 1947.

I was in Calcutta for my daughter’s wedding.  I don’t know if it would be much different as a tourist; I probably would have seen more visitor-oriented sites, maybe prettier, I don’t know.  I’m sure I wouldn’t have had the hospitality of a Kolkata household and the opportunity to meet so many different and interesting people.  The heat, power outages and condition of the streets are constants.  I did go on shopping trips for saris and kurtas, and I was dazzled by the colors and sounds of the outdoor markets.  Rupees are individually worthless; it takes hundreds or thousands of them to buy anything and it overtaxed by non-mathematical brain to make a simple purchase.  Fortunately my son-in-law was able to guide me in all things financial.  I’m rambling and digressing—I was talking about dogs, wasn’t I?

 

 

Two or three dogs graced the entrance of the Star D’Lite Guest House, along with the men who worked there.  Always men, always many.  I asked about doing laundry; they assured me it was no problem.  After two days, my clothes returned, damp and smelling strongly of curry.  Note to self:  next trip to India bring enough clothes or wear them dirty.  They did prepare the pre-wedding luncheon and it was quite good.

 All the food was good.  Despite the heat, minimal refrigeration, the staff of Dev’s grandparents’ home turned out substantial quantities of eminently edible food 3 times per day. The table was always covered with amazing quantities of vegetables, curries, croquettes, breads, chutney and always a lot of rice and dal. There is a wonderful yogurt that was served in an earthenware bowl; if I could, I would order daily deliveries.   When summoned to eat, I rarely say no.  Although I worried about my delicate digestive system, my body was on company manners for the entire trip.  Except for the whole fish they seemed to love, I was able to eat and enjoy everything else served (I don’t much like fish, but it’s worse when they’re staring at me).  Since the family knew the food was unfamiliar to me, they went out of their way to name each dish and make sure my plate was full.   You don’t have to be an experienced traveler to know that good guests praise the food of their hosts, and that was quite easy to do.  In addition to the home based meals, the pre- and post-wedding feasts were extravagant, colorful, and delicious. 

 

My hosts were wonderful.  My only negative feeling was inadequacy to be around so many educated, intelligent and successful people—to me, being able to put on a sari yourself is a very specialized skill set.  I felt as in the presence of royalty; the women are jewel-like, the men, in the pajama-like kurtas are polished and sophisticated.  Western dress is quite drab by comparison; I understand why Indian women in the US continue to wear saris.  Once you get the hang of going to the bathroom in one (and not tripping over yourself like I did) you can appreciate the attraction of this kind of dress.  It is a very forgiving style.

Back to the dogs—I worry about animals on the street.  But in Calcutta, they’re all on the street, not surprising in a place where people live on the street.  Some don’t look so well, as would be expected.  At the Guest House, they seemed to have food and water and were allowed to hang out inside the gate.  It’s hard to tell if they’re pets—or just co-exist, like the people on the street.

I’m not a world traveler, I’m a wide-eyed tourist.   The world looks like a different place when seen from the other side; and yet, so much smaller.  How amazing to sit down for 20+ hours, then walk out into a totally different environment.   I’m used to provincial people; whether in Brooklyn or Georgia there are many people who can’t imagine going outside their comfort zone; never mind a whole different country.  For me, even though India was a new experience, I have felt like a tourist for much of my life.  I’ve never quite been in the “in crowd”, so being one of a small group of two (my daughter and I) with a different skin tone and body type didn’t seem that strange.  When I was a child in Brooklyn, I lived in a housing project that was almost all black and Puerto Rican by the time we moved.  I have always been on the fringes (although fortunately, not ever in the street). 

I wish I could make everyone see how big, and how small, our world is.  When you live your life in a small town in Georgia, it is understandable that you think people are supposed to be only one of two colors, and definitely only one religion.  I want to do a mind meld with these people so they can understand what the world really looks like; I haven’t seen that much of it, but I think I would feel fine with any part of it I could see.  Would the dogs of Calcutta get along with the dogs of Waresboro?  I think they would growl some, sniff a few butts, and then move on.

 

 

 

To Elysium

"Thy road,  the right, toward Pluto's dwelling goes, And leads us to Elysium.  But the left Speeds sinful souls to doom, and is  their path To Tartarus th' accurst"--Virgil, Aeneid

                                                   

 

 

 Neill Blomkamp has done it again, presenting a vision of the future that is really the present.  The characters are comic book heroes and villains, but yet we know them and can clearly see their personalities.   I like productions that have a message and go beyond entertainment; that is Blomkamp’s forte (I also like Matt Damon a lot).

The story is set on an earth that looks like at least part of ours.  Overcrowded, graffitied, broken down and full of angry and hopeless people.  At the same time, the upper classes (the 1%) have relocated to a space station made into a  perfect world of beautiful and healthy people.  It is called Elysium, and it is ruled by a ruthless Senator (Jody Foster) who controls a puppet President.  Her goal is to preserve their lifestyle at all costs and she is tired of feeling threatened by the constant influx of illegal aliens in their patched together transport ships.  The transport operation is run by a damaged yet computer literate Spyder, (Wagner Moura) who continues his mission in spite of his ships being destroyed and his passengers killed or deported. 

The hero of the story is Max, an orphan raised by nuns, in trouble his whole life but trying to live like a model citizen.  His long term goal is getting to Elysium, which becomes critical when he is exposed to a lethal dose of radiation while on the job at a robotics plant.  This leads him to hooking up with Spyder who learns that a plot to reboot Elysium has been downloaded into the brain of Max’s former boss.  Max then becomes a more than six-million dollar man and a superhero with the ability to save Earth and create equality for all.  Pretty ambitious, even for a superhero.

Yes, it’s transparent; the message is about equality and the status of the 99%, not only in our country, but throughout the world.  The movie was filmed in Canada and Mexico with an international cast; the people in Max’s area speak Spanish.  In Elysium everyone seems to look alike; of course they have machines which can cure all ailments and correct imperfections, so that’s logical.  But the focus here is actually health care.  The reason people are so eager to go to Elysium is because every home is equipped with a machine that scans the body and fixes what is wrong.  Earth still has under-equipped hospitals staffed by humans and people die a lot.  On Elysium it appears no one has to die, at least not of illness or injury.

Max begins with being desperate to go in order to save his life; incidentally, he hooks up with a childhood friend, Frey,(Alice Braga) who now has a daughter dying of leukemia.  After his amazing bionic transformation into a (dying) superhero, his mission changes to curing the world.  I will not reveal the entire plot or the ending, but suffice it to say the moral of the story is Universal Health Care.

I long for a superhero to free us from the control of the 1% who tell us Universal Health Care is a socialist plot.  The body fixing machines of course have no scientific basis whatsoever, but the concept is real:  we now have the medical technology not only to treat most illnesses but also to prevent many.  The Affordable Care Act is a step in the right direction, but it’s a long way from Universal coverage. 

For me, my health insurance is only there while I work; when/if I retire, I get Medicare (80%) which leaves a lot left over.  I can purchase a supplement, which can be pretty hefty on a retirement income.  My husband would have no coverage; even with the ACA the cost of his premium, based on joint income, would be quite high.  I’m glad that lower income people will benefit, but it’s a long way from equal coverage for all. 

I’m sure many people will see this movie as just a sci-fi action/adventure flick; while cheering on the hero, they may miss the implication of what he really does.

WWF Anonymous

My name is Barbara and I am a Words with Friends addict.  I can stay away for days at a time—but only when I don’t hear my phone go “buzz-buzz-ding” alerting me that someone wants to play.  My favorite opponents are players who beat me a lot because then I have a challenge.  I must save face, no one can be smarter than me, not with words!  It’s no fun to continually beat someone—or to be continually beaten. 

I know it’s not a test of intelligence; it’s like doing a crossword puzzle—you begin to know the words that are acceptable, even though you’ve never heard them before.  You can also google any combination of letters you have to see if they are “legal”.  I guess that’s cheating, but the standard has been set.

The options for playing are with a Facebook Friend, or a Random Opponent.  It seems that my Facebook Friends have either found lives, or are intimidated by me (I choose to believe the latter), so I now have a Random Opponent who seems to like playing with me.  This Random Person goes by the name Hessie26.

I find myself wondering a lot lately as to who Hessie26 is in real life.  I can start a chat in the game, but she/he might not respond, or the responses might be uninformative.  Plus, if I did get answers it would destroy all the stories I have been creating:

1.       Hessie is an old Jewish lady (the name sounds that way to me), born in 1926 (she’s 87), who is physically incapacitated but with a sharp mind.  She was a scholar and a writer who won many awards and honors.  She had no children, so she spends a lot of time alone and only gets out when a friend is able to take her to a lecture or exhibit.

2.       Hessie is an annoyingly cute and bright 26 year old who expects to be the best at everything she does.  She is currently working on her PhD in Transformational Psychopharmacology but gets bored with idle time so multi-tasks a great deal.  She is currently playing 31 games of Words with Friends.

3.       Hessie is a precocious 9 year old (the 26 is for her birthday, May 26) with few friends so she is usually on line either studying or playing games.  She has won several championships in chess and Sudoku and plays word games to relax.

I have won 2 games with Hessie, who has won 3.  Current game is going well, but I can’t get complacent because Hessie is a player that is liable to hit me with a 96 point word when I am down to vowels and one “t”.  Exciting, right?  Or maybe I should just get a life.

 

Anti-rules of Life

                                                 

 

You know how people are always posting things on Facebook like this?  Rules, guidelines, faux quotes from famous people?  I imagine hundreds of people printing out these rules and pasting them on their mirrors.  They then go on to berate themselves on a daily basis for not living up to the guidelines handed to them by someone else.  For some, it’s a religious thing.  When I have a day where everything goes wrong and I’m mad at the world, I usually wake up the next day expecting things to be better.  When a uber-religious person wakes up the next day, they walk around with guilt for having a bad attitude and beg the world—and God—for forgiveness. But I digress….

I would like to re-write those rules above—but please don’t paste this on your bathroom mirror.  This is merely my interpretation—at satirical at that—for a common sense approach to the ups and downs of life.

1.       The past is what it is.  It is permanently etched on your brain and will show itself when you least expect it.  It probably is screwing up your present because it created who you are today.  The only thing you can do is understand it and go from there.

2.       What others think of you can totally mess with your head and your life.  Should it be that way?  I can say of course not—but it does.  It can affect the quality of your education, the future of your job, and your family life.  People gossip, people lie.  Never mind the sticks and stones, words CAN and WILL hurt you.  Ask a politician.  What do you do?  Continue to be yourself and eventually there will be people in your life who know and love who you are.

3.       Time does not heal abuse, mental and physical illness, and abusive relationships.  Intervention, medical or otherwise, can and does.  Sometimes it doesn’t and people die.  Of course, everyone eventually dies which I guess is the ultimate cure, with time.

4.       Ok, I agree with the not judging part—except for really bad people.  Why should I try to understand the journey of a person whose mission is to cause pain and injury to other people?

Why should I understand the “journey” of a racist or bigot?  I can be as understanding as all get-out if someone wants to change—but otherwise, I do get to judge.  Which is what we all do when we exercise our right to vote.

5.       I agree that thinking alone may not produce answers.  The thing people forget to do is educate themselves.  You can think better when you are informed of the problem and the options.  Some things need to be left alone for a while.  “Thinking too much” is another way people say things like “You’re too smart for your own good”.  It’s also a convenient way to complete disregard another point of view.

6.       Another vague statement that can mean anything from “money doesn’t buy happiness” to stop blaming others.  Some of which I can agree with.  However—can you be happy when you live in mind-numbing poverty or abuse?  The way out, or the way to “happiness” may not always be available or visible.  Back to the “past” thing, what happens to a child who grows up with constant physical and mental abuse?  Are they responsible for their own happiness?  Or let’s look at people in third world countries where happiness may only mean having a meal that day? 

7.       Sure, smiling is good.  And, no, you don’t own all the problems in the world, just your own.  Smiling is good when it comes from inside, not when it’s pasted on to convince someone else how great you’re doing.  Let’s face it, some days you just don’t feel a smile.  Some days you need to cry—and that’s ok too!

 

 

I Still Have a Dream

There are a lot of people, including some that actually agree with my viewpoints, who don’t understand why I “put it out there”.  Not only my writing, but my bumper stickers (current number: 3—Obama/Biden 2012;  Co-Exist; and  I Love Obamacare).  For me, it lets the world know who I am and I’m not ashamed.  Others have thought I was putting myself in danger or that I’m just annoying.  No question, everyone knows where I stand on pretty much everything.  The downside is they don’t listen to me; the upside is sometimes they do. 

If you read this blog, I’ll assume you don’t totally hate me.  If you don’t read this, it doesn’t really matter what I say to offend you, right?  I have a little plaque that reads:  “Stand up for your principles, even if you stand alone”.  That kind of sums it up for me.  There was a big stretch of my life (the raising children in bad marriages part) of being non-political and relatively uninvolved in the world around me.  There was some community involvement (most of which didn’t go too well, either—but I blame that on WaycrossJ).  I didn’t get really political again until before the last W election. 

In my earlier life I was quite the radical.  I guess it was my religion, in a way.  I come by it honestly from my left-wing parents, but I also was continually inspired during the 60s.  The Civil Rights and Anti-War movements were active, busy, and at times, thrilling.  I went on numerous marches and protests, and did political canvassing (most notably for LBJ).  I didn’t make the big March in 1963 (I was working—but honestly, I was kind of scared also).  I avoided putting myself in the way of the law and I sort of feel guilty about that.  There was a major protest against on-campus military recruitment at my school,  Brooklyn College, which led to a 3-day boycott.  Mounted police were called in to break it up and I saw one drag a girl off by her hair.  During college, my jacket bore every pin that was made (including the original famous peace sign put out by the Student Peace Union).  I stored them in a box which somehow has disappeared, along with many other tokens of that long-ago time.

August is the 50^th Anniversary of the March on Washington.  This year has been rife with discussions about the current status of racism in our country.  An anniversary March is planned and I probably won’t go to this one either.  Not because my belief is any less, but I really hate crowds, and this should be a big one.  The discussion is one I will continue, however.  Are things better since 1963?  In many ways, of course.  There are more black college graduates and professionals; there are no race-specific laws; racism is up for public discussion.  Much of the current discussion centers on what is perceived as “reverse” racism by the media.  This usually comes from the right wing of the political spectrum and states that the media defends black perpetrators of crime and ignores white victims.  There is also a lot of talk that racism really no longer exists

I do have black friends; they rarely march in the streets against racism.  Many of them never say an unpleasant word to white people who they know are racist.  But, believe me readers, they can tell you with certainty that the beast is not yet dead.  If you ask; if you listen.  It’s in the workplace, in healthcare, public agencies and even in the church.  The “N-word” is quieter, but still very much in use. 

I will continue to voice my opinions as long as there is inequality, injustice and unilateral wars.  Which means you can expect to keep hearing from me while I’m on this side of the grass.

Really?

The news here lately is gotten repetitive and annoying.  I’m tired of arguments about everything and definitely not interested in the royal baby.  I mean I like babies and all, but a baby is a baby.  When it’s yours it’s thrilling.  When it’s your grandchild it’s thrilling.  Maybe even a niece, nephew, close friend…..the royal couple is none of those things to me.  So let’s talk about reality. 

That is, reality as in virtual and TV shows.  As I recall, vaguely, from the mandatory Philosophy course I took in college, there has been a lot of discussion over the years about reality and what is it anyway.  That’s confusing enough for my non-stretchable brain matter; I decided to come up with my own acceptable idea of what is real and what is the universe anyway.  Reality is what I see, hear and feel; the older I get I’m sure my reality gets more and more debatable, but that’s the way it has to be.  As far as the universe goes, it makes me dizzy to just try to imagine it being either terminal or never-ending.

Virtual reality is almost easier to understand—it’s really just being in someone else’s imagination.  I’ve never worn one of those goggle things I’ve seen pictures of (I’m sure I’d be back with the dizzy thing again—it takes me a couple of weeks to adjust to new eyeglasses), but I do get lost in 3-D movies so I’m thinking it’s similar.  “Reality” TV—now that’s another matter altogether.

First of all the name “Reality TV” is an oxymoron.  If it’s recorded for the purpose of other people watching it on a screen at home it’s clearly NOT reality.  Reality is what you do in your own  environment—work, school, the battlefield, home, even Disneyworld.  People act pretty darn real when they’re waiting on line for attractions at Disneyworld.   I don’t exactly remember Heisenberg’s Uncertainty principle, but I’m pretty sure it’s along the lines of “once you examine something, under a microscope or whatever, the thing itself changes because you’re looking at it” (I looked it up and there’s a lot of physics-type words in the definition but it’s still pretty close).  Psychological or anthropological studies that form conclusions based on observing a group of people are automatically invalid because they are changing the group’s reactions by studying them.

With me so far? (If not, you can stop reading now because I’m not going to get any clearer).   So Big Brother, Survivor and Amazing Race are far removed from reality.  I would prefer a fictionalized account of a group of strangers thrown together to make a reality TV show, because it would at least have a plot.   But don’t confuse Reality TV with non-fiction or documentary recordings.  Those are intentionally constructed and edited to relay information, hopefully of some actual value and artistic merit.  Compare and contrast with “Honey Boo Boo”. 

Maybe it’s not fair for me to even comment, since I don’t watch those shows.  It just seems to me that watching Honey Boo Boo has the same appeal as watching a train wreck—but much less attractive.   Someone please tell me why they call them “Beauty” pageants.  I’m positive that if I put makeup and tiaras on my dogs (even little one-eyed Johnny) they would be much more appealing to look at (no guys, I really wouldn’t, I promise!). 

 

Injustice has 20/20 vision

The verdict is done, but the trial is not over.  I have heard those who say Zimmerman was defending himself, Martin was dangerous or the high road of “no one really knows what happened”.  Of course someone does know and many can guess.  This case is historical because of the media and the expected repercussions.  I hope they are not violent ones but that it will serve as a lesson for Americans who believe racism is a thing of the past.

I don’t know George Zimmerman.  I didn’t know Trayvon Martin.  I do know that it was an unnecessary death of a young man whose future was unwritten.  Several on Facebook have written that Zimmerman will live his life in hiding; I doubt that.  He will write a book, have a TV movie made and be interviewed on numerous talk shows.  Maybe there will be threats on his life, but maybe he’ll have enough money to buy enough protection to stay alive. 

Sometimes it is embarrassing to be an American.  I’m not a “true” Southerner even though I’ve been living in Georgia for 42 years, most of them very close to Florida.  Today Florida is an embarrassment to the rest of the country.  How can a man walk free from a courtroom with no consequences after killing an unarmed teenager?  How can we not be angry that that happened?

There is grief and anger out there tonight.  I don’t know what others will do with their emotions.  To me, the most logical response is to understand the deep roots of racism and the ongoing saga of hate and injustice we live with every day.  When that is understood, the response should be to continue to fight it with speaking out and standing up.

Speak Up, Stand Up, Show Up!

                                                                      

 

The title of this post is the slogan voiced by Rep. Stacey Abrams, Minority Leader of the Georgia House of Representatives.  She delivered a rousing call to Democrats gathered at a well-attended meeting, "Building a Democratic Majority in Georgia".  I had the honor of introducing her and wasn't really aware of what an honor it was until I heard her speak.  Rep. Abrams is a strong, gifted and active woman who represents the best of what Georgians can do if they try.  Her message to Dems was that it is time we let people know who we are by speaking out and going to the polls.  The podium was also shared by State Sen. John Barrow, who has beaten the odds by his re-election in heavily Republican territories, and Rep. Scott Holcomb, a young and enthusiastic legislator who also represents our best interests.

This was a great evening to meet with old and new friends, eat terrific food at the famous Sybil's Restaurant in Jesup.  Attendees included representatives of Appling, Wayne and Ware Democratic Committees, as well as some from Glynn, Liberty and Bulloch Counties.  Former (and hopefully future) candidate Lesli Messinger was there and author/farmer Janisse Ray from Baxley. 

It was a time to believe that in spite of attempts to restrict the rights of women and minorities, demean the POTUS, gerrymander voting districts to ensure Republican majorities and feed Americans a constant stream of lies and hate, common sense and justice might eventually prevail.